


Bus 666

by chocochurros



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-12
Updated: 2017-11-12
Packaged: 2019-02-01 05:23:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12698241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocochurros/pseuds/chocochurros
Summary: I have no idea why I wrote this.





	Bus 666

I fear that, earlier today,  
When embarking for home, I made a small mistake -   
I think, perhaps, that I may  
Have seen the depths of Hell.

Let me clarify, to be clear  
(For the sake of truth is dear  
To me) - This hapless, stupid queer  
Boarded the wrong bus at the bell.

There was no difference I could surmise  
Until I saw, to my surprise,  
My friends had red and glinting eyes  
And sharpened teeth aglow.

I shrugged it off - honestly,  
Stranger things have happened to me  
This year, more fearful sights to see -   
And so, I decided, why should I not go?

My friend waved and patted the seat beside him,  
A gesture quite inviting -   
I obliged, though I stared at his too-bright grin  
A bit too long, as I sat upon the strange, dark seat.

Looking around slightly more carefully  
Than I would, had my curiosity not been piqued  
By an unusual, tingling electricity  
In the air, plus the new sharpness of my friends' teeth,

I noticed more the more I looked -   
My fellow passengers were reading books  
With strange titles, reticent in little nooks  
Or talking with each other.

This was very strange because,   
compared to the usual behavior on the bus,  
The civil, respectful discourse was  
Enough so to shock their mothers.

And, unlike on other days,  
When I got on, several people waved  
At me, in such a friendly, genuine, welcoming way  
That I was caught off-guard.

I waved back, feeling a smile creep  
Its stealthy way across my cheeks  
As I heard an unfamiliar beep  
And was handed a deck of playing cards.

Almost before I could process what I’d done,  
I’d played a game of Uno - and won! -   
With the laughing, not-quite-familiar ones  
Surrounding me on the bus.

Although they looked just like my peers  
(Plus ashen skin and pointed ears),  
I could tell they weren’t, yet I didn’t fear  
The concept of, with them, becoming “us.”

It was only then that I found the source  
Of the beeping sound from before -   
The crackling speaker didn’t say, “2994” -   
It said, “bus 666.”

I started in shock - could it be?  
THe ones who’d been so nice to me  
Were from down under, secretly?  
Taking dog-filter selfie pics?

They weren’t so bad, though, I decided -   
I guess perhaps a point on which they prided  
Themselves, sticking together under the draconian presiding   
Of the one in charge.

Speaking of, they all looked up at me, curious,  
When I rose to see the furious-  
Ly red bus driver, who tipped his hat courteously  
To me, like the captain of a barge.

Indeed, he had the infamous horns,  
And a bright, balding head - or was it shorn? -   
And the blood-red pitchfork beside him for  
Speed and convenience’s sake.

Reeling slightly, my thoughts whirling,  
I took in the darkly swirling  
Mix of monstrous features - curling  
Tails and claws like rakes.

But I’m proud to say, I didn’t bolt -   
It would be terribly rude not to hold  
On a while to show these suffering, cheerful souls  
A spot of gratitude.

I softly intoned to Satan himself,  
“I think I got on the wrong bus,” quivering to myself,  
Watching, overwhelmed, as he reached to a shelf  
And said, “‘sokay, dude.”

Shocked at this comfortable familiarity,  
I watched him press a button, turn a key;  
The door opened up - I was free! -   
But I lingered for a sec.

I wasn’t sure what I could say,  
So I closed my mouth, turned, and walked away,  
Filing off for another day  
The thought that I wanted to show the Devil respect.

The sun shone bright upon my hair -   
But when I turned to look, there was none there.  
Only a covering of clouds capped the air,  
So what had caused the warmth?

The bus, I saw, had disappeared -   
I couldn’t decide whether my fears   
Were relieved, or if disappointment tugged my ears,  
If regret weighed on my arms.

I felt my scalp to double-check -   
Something was there! What the heck? -   
A note, on strange, red paper - for asec,  
It was warm enough to feel like fire.

Opening it, I saw these words:  
“You’re a nice kid. For now, enjoy the sun and birds,  
But since you’re queer, the old man’ll treat you like dirt,  
So one day this bus’ll be your escape route from his ire.”

“P.S.,” continued on the back,  
“Don’t worry, we’ve got the best snacks  
And rowdy games, plus the fact  
That we’re allowed to actually have fun.”

I slowly re-folded the note, lost in thought,  
Wondering how it could have got-  
Ten to me, considering that  
Bus 666 was gone.

I shrugged, boarding the “correct” bus -   
Boring, plain, and dull as dust -   
Pondering how, soon, my “us”   
Would be with my seeming real friends.

Did that mean that I belonged in Hell?  
Maybe so, but for now I quelled   
Those thoughts, putting away the note as well  
As I let my old bus send

 

Me home.


End file.
